Crimson
by ScribeofArda
Summary: 'It always seemed to be the days when everything was going right, when everything would suddenly go wrong. There was no quiet decline into disorder, no warnings of what was to come before it hit. It merely hit.' Classic Legolas angst, to get me out of a massive writing slump.
1. Chapter 1

**Crimson**

 **Chapter One**

 _So I did promise everyone another story! This is the classic, simple angst type of story that I started writing to try and get out of a massive writing slump, because this sort of story is easy enough for me to write, compared to some of the more complicated things I've done in the past (In a Field of Blood and Stone was infuriating at some points, because of how complex it got trying to fit everything to the right timeline). Anyway, hopefully you'll enjoy this mess of various tropes and classic Legolas angst. Light trigger warnings for injuries and typical Middle-Earth violence._

 _Uni is busy at the moment- I'm about to go into exams, and have a lot of other things going on at the same time- but I am trying to find more time to write. It's sort of working, but obviously at the moment I'm revising a lot and only have the evenings to relax (and Netflix is so tempting...)_

 _Hope everyone is having a good year so far. This story will probably be about four chapters, I think? We'll see how it goes, but this is only the beginning. As always, reviews are very welcome._

 _Disclaimer: only Belhadron and Rhavaniel belong to me._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

It always seemed to be the days when everything was going right, when everything would suddenly go wrong. There was no quiet decline into disorder, no warnings of what was to come before it hit. It merely hit.

Belhadron's face was torn in a fierce snarl, his sword a blur in his hand as he cut through the orcs erupting from the shadows of the forest around him. Legolas was just behind him, his arrows slicing through the air past Belhadron. Where they landed, the shadows stilled, if only for a second before another orc stepped on the one that had fallen and launched themselves at them.

The elves were fighting furiously, holding back the line until reinforcements could arrive. Belhadron could feel his muscles aching, but he knew it as he knew there would be snow in the northern woods in a few months; it was distant, and had no effect on him. The fear surging through him, of what would happen if the orcs broke through their lines; it was better fuel than any fire.

The steady sing of arrows faltered from behind him and Belhadron paused, half turning back to where he knew Legolas to be. There was a flash of blond hair in the corner of his eye, and then a familiar voice in his ear.

"I'm out of arrows," Legolas shouted over the screams and clashes of steel. "We can't hold them for much longer."

"We just need to hold them long enough for the reinforcements to arrive," Belhadron shouted back, twisting his sword and darting forwards to head off another orc. He pulled his sword from the orc's body, shoving it away with a kick and earning himself a brief reprieve. "They can't be long now."

Legolas had unsheathed his knife, and parried a blow from an approaching orc, slashing the knife across the weak leather protecting his neck. He held up his other hand, signalling to the elves around them. The signal was picked up and passed on down the line, and the elves fell into formation around them. As if in response, the orcs at that moment surged forwards, battering the line again and again, and the sounds of battle filled the forest, threatening to overflow.

A murmur passed up through the ranks of elves, travelling on a sudden breeze until a breathless messenger sprinted up and shouted out for a captain. Legolas dropped back, another elf filling the line for the few seconds that the messenger relayed what he knew.

"Reinforcements are five minutes," Legolas called out to Belhadron as he moved back to the front of the line

"We can hold them for that long!" Belhadron shouted. He slashed out with his sword, fiercely duelling two orcs as they tried to draw him away from the line and into their midst. Belhadron held his ground, not moving far from where Legolas was fighting his own skirmishes, the orcs dropping around him to the sing of his knife.

Belhadron heard the shout, from an elf down the line, before he saw the shadows coalesce into the shape of yet another enemy to be dealt with. "Crossbows!" the cry rang out, and it was passed down the line, from elf to elf. Belhadron's hand went back to his quiver, but it was empty, had long been empty, and he could do nothing but scan the approaching orcs in what time he had between bouts, searching for the familiar shape of the weapon.

Legolas appeared at his side briefly. "Dead ahead," he said, dispatching another orc with his knife. "Archers! Crossbows dead ahead!"

Almost instantly an arrow flew past Belhadron from behind, one of the few archers who still had any arrows left to use. Others followed it, singing through the air. Crossbow bolts flew back in reply, but they were poorly aimed, and were mostly harmless.

Belhadron pushed the line forwards with Legolas a few paces, holding back the onslaught. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, the fierce ache in his muscles, but he kept pushing. They only needed a few more minutes. Only a few minutes, and it would be enough.

Three things happened at once. The orcs surged forwards, crests of dark waves erupting from the shadows and crashing towards them. At the same time, there came the sound of running feet from behind them, the reinforcements they had been waiting on launching themselves into the fray. And above the din of battle, the shouts of the elves and snarls of the orcs, on the edge of his hearing, Belhadron heard a quiet gasp, quickly cut off, and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

There was an orc nearby, already falling to the ground as blood dumped from deep wounds to his neck and chest. The blade, slipping from numb fingers, was tinged crimson.

Belhadron turned, and his heart stopped.

For a brief moment he thought that it was merely a scratch, that he had just been knocked off balance and would get back up in a moment, would offer him a quick smile and reassurance before throwing himself back into the battle, but then he slumped forwards, and his knife slipped from his hand, and all Belhadron thought was _no_.

The battle raged on around them, the orcs kept coming, and Belhadron could do nothing more at the moment than step in front of Legolas and parry a blow from an incoming orc. He could hear his heart beating frantically, as if it could keep Legolas' going by sheer force of will.

Another elf stepped up to his side and Belhadron took the opportunity to fall back, to fall to his knees beside Legolas and press his hands over the tear in his leathers, to try and keep the blood from spilling out, hot and wet, between his fingers. The static calm of a soldier overtook him, the centuries of training overriding the fear clawing at his throat, and Belhadron looked up and around them. The battle continued regardless of the sprawled figure on the ground, but it was turning in their favour, the newly arrived reinforcements pushing the orcs back. Belhadron, with the feeling of blood beneath his hands, made his decision.

He hauled Legolas up, slinging his arm over his own shoulders and half carried, half dragged him away from the frontline. Elves rushed past him, heading for the battle and he was glad to see that many of them were from their elite companies. That meant that one of the other captains was here, and the frontline would be in good hands with both him and Legolas gone.

The option to stay, to send Legolas back with another, had not even crossed his mind.

The newly arrived captain had set up a command position behind the frontline, something Legolas and Belhadron had been unable to do when the orcs had first set upon them. Belhadron staggered towards it, Legolas a heavy weight at his side. The captain turned, hearing his footsteps, and then her mouth fell open. In the next moment she hurried forwards, taking Legolas' other side and helping to carry him the last few steps to the command position.

"What happened?" she asked as they set Legolas down, Belhadron already pulling at his leathers to get to the wound beneath.

"I don't know," he replied. "I didn't see it." He finally pulled off the leathers and pushed the tunic up. Blood spilled out across the ground, and Belhadron quickly clamped his hands down over the wound.

The captain straightened up, and looked around. "Get me a medic!" she called out. "And get me three horses!"

Legolas shifted underneath Belhadron's hands, and Belhadron leant over. "Legolas," he said clearly, ignoring the slight tremble that tried to find its way into his voice. "Legolas, can you hear me?"

Legolas' eyes flickered open, but only just. Belhadron smiled slightly, even as his fingers slipped on Legolas' side, trying to hold on against the blood welling up beneath his hands. "Stay awake," he said. "Stay awake for me. Can you do that?"

Legolas nodded slightly, even as his face scrunched up in pain. "Sorry," he whispered, the words barely falling from his lips.

Belhadron shook his head. "Don't apologise for anything," he said fiercely. "And don't try to talk. Just stay awake. Stay with me."

An elf ran over, a bag slung over his shoulder, and fell to his knees beside them. "Let me see," he said. "Captain, move your hands and let me see."

Belhadron shook his head. "I can't," he said. "He's bleeding badly."

The medic pulled a wound dressing out of his bag and unfolded it. "On three," he said. Belhadron nodded, and then pulled his hands away on three as the medic pressed down on the wound with the dressing. Legolas hissed in pain, twisting on the ground, and Belhadron put a hand on his shoulder to hold him still.

"Stay with me," he said again. "Come on, Legolas, keep your eyes open." Legolas nodded, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

"Belhadron."

Belhadron nearly snarled as the captain laid a hand on his shoulder. "What?"

"You won't do any help here," she said. "Not right now. Come and explain the situation to me, and then I can take command easily enough, and you can ride back with him."

Belhadron hesitated for a moment, watching the medic as he worked. "Fine," he said eventually. "Call me if anything happens, or as soon as he is ready to be moved. I want to get back to the stronghold as quickly as possible."

The medic nodded, and waved him away without looking up. Belhadron squeezed Legolas' shoulder. "I'll only be a few yards away," he said to Legolas, not even quite sure if Legolas was conscious enough to understand him. "We'll be heading home soon. Just hang on until then."

He got to his feet and moved away, if reluctantly. The battle was still progressing behind them, the frontline wavering slightly, and then holding fast as the elves fought back against the waves of orcs. It was hard for him to tear his gaze away from Legolas' still figure, the medic working over him with a few more elves helping where they could, but his mindset was still that of a soldier, and his training was too ingrained to completely disregard protocol.

He filled in the captain on what had happened: the ambush, their desperate scramble to prevent retreat, and the fight they'd been having since to hold the line. The captain put together a quick plan, with what help Belhadron could offer, and he stayed with her until finally, after what seemed like far too long, the medic called him back.

Belhadron's breath stuttered in his throat as he saw Legolas' eyes firmly shut. The medic caught the fear that played across his face before he managed to school his expression. "He lost consciousness a few minutes ago," he said. "But he's still breathing."

Belhadron knelt down next to them. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"Bad enough," the medic replied. "He needs to get back to the stronghold or he won't live, with that wound. I've staunched the bleeding as best as I can with my supplies here, but he needs much more than I can give him. It should hold for the ride back to the stronghold, but if it doesn't, I'll give one of the elves escorting you some medical supplies."

Belhadron nodded. "Brief one of them on the situation and what the healers need to know as well," he said. "If I am unable to speak to the healers immediately upon getting back." He'd already pulled two of the elves that had been with him and Legolas off the frontline to accompany them back, and they were readying the horses and any supplies they needed as he spoke.

"Let's not waste anymore time," the medic said. "Get a horse and we'll get him up."

"How far gone is he?" Belhadron asked, hand coming to rest on Legolas' shoulder. "Will this hurt?"

"Probably," the medic said with a shrug. "But I don't know. Far better for it to hurt, and for him to get home quickly and get help, than to be too cautious and end up being too late."

"Of course," Belhadron said, swallowing down the sudden nausea at the thought. He turned and caught one of the passing elves. "Get me my horse, and the two elves escorting me."

Legolas, thankfully, remained unconscious as Belhadron mounted, and then two elves lifted him up to sit him in front of Belhadron on his mare. Belhadron wrapped his arms around Legolas, and could feel the thick bandages tight around his side. Legolas' head lolled back against Belhadron's shoulder.

He glanced back at the two elves accompanying him. They were already mounted, quivers secured on their backs and bows in their hands. If there was danger, they were to engage, and give Belhadron a clear path north to head back home. One of them had a bag slung over her shoulder, and was leant down talking to the medic.

"Are we ready?" he asked. "We don't have time to waste."

Both elves nodded. "Move out," Belhadron ordered, and then dug his heels into his mare's flanks. His mare shot forwards, heading north and for home.

0-o-0-o-0

The paths were familiar now, the green clearing in front of the bridge and the main gates just a couple hundred yards away. Belhadron dug his heels into his mare's flank again, urging her on for the last time. The two elves that had come with him rode to either side, their horses lathered with sweat and foaming at the mouths. They had ridden hard and fast, as fast as they could go.

Belhadron could feel the blood seeping through the bandages beneath his arm, and he shifted Legolas, trying to put better pressure against the wound. Finally the gates of the stronghold came into view, and he pulled his horse up to a stop in the green.

There were elves readying to head to the frontline in and around the stronghold, gathering weapons and forming companies, and they turned the place into a hive of activity for battle. As soon as they heard the hoof beats they had been on guard, but when Belhadron rode hard into the courtyard and checked his mare, he could hear muted shouts of surprise from some of them. For a moment they were frozen, seeing their Prince slumped in front of him, seeing the dark stains on Belhadron that could only be blood, and then they rushed forwards.

"Send for the healers!" someone cried out. "Get a stretcher out here, now!"

Elves surrounded Belhadron's mare, arms reaching up to steady Legolas as Belhadron let him slip from his horse's back. Legolas was barely off the horse when Belhadron flung himself off and fell to his knees beside Legolas as they laid him down on the grass.

"Legolas," he said, gently rubbing at Legolas' chest. "Legolas, can you hear me?"

The two elves that had accompanied him pushed through the growing crowds, and took up positions on either side. "Everyone get back!" one called out, hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. "Give the Prince some space."

"Anyone who is not immediately useful needs to leave," the other added. "Get out of here and back to what you were doing."

Many elves hesitated, but sharp glares from the two elves flanking Legolas and Belhadron made them back away, and the crowd slowly dwindled.

"The healers have been sent for," one elf said, staying just outside the reach of the elves flanking Belhadron. "We're getting a stretcher now."

Belhadron nodded, but his attention was focused on Legolas. "Easy," he murmured as Legolas' eyelids flickered, his brow scrunching in pain. "Easy now. Don't move, or it'll hurt more. Just open your eyes."

Legolas' eyes flickered open, and Belhadron managed to put a smile on his face. "Keep looking at me," he said. "Keep your eyes open."

Legolas nodded, and then tensed as the movement sent tendrils of pain racing out from his side. Belhadron checked the bandages on his side, and a frown marred his face as he saw the slowly growing crimson stain soaking through the white cloth.

"Eyes on me," he said to Legolas again. "Keep your eyes open. Stay awake, Legolas, just hang on for a little longer."

Legolas nodded again, despite the wince of pain that the movement caused. "Others…" he rasped out. "What…happened?"

"Reinforcements arrived at the frontline," Belhadron said, a weak smile on his face at the thought of Legolas being worried over the elves under his command when he was bleeding out on the grass. "They're holding it steady. The orcs will be repelled by the end of tomorrow, I'll bet."

"By end of today," Legolas rasped. "I'll take…that bet." The last words were nearly indistinguishable, said through gritted teeth as Legolas choked on the pain, his body spasming. Belhadron grasped his hand and let him cling onto it, crushing his fingers as he tried to force his broken body to stay still.

"Keep your eyes open, Legolas," Belhadron said, panic starting to seep into his voice despite the best of his ability and his training. "Legolas? Look at me. Hang on for just a few more minutes. Please, just keep your eyes open for me."

Legolas nodded weakly, but a few more moments and his eyes flickered shut, the tension draining from his body as he lost consciousness again. Belhadron cursed, resisting the urge to shake him until he woke up. It would only do more harm.

There was a flurry of activity out of the corner of his eye, and then elves sprinted up with a stretcher. "The healers are coming, captain," one of them said. "They'll be here any minute now."

"Tell them to move faster!" Belhadron snapped. "You three, help me get him on the stretcher."

Belhadron gently rolled Legolas onto one side, careful of his wound, and the elves slid the stretcher underneath him. Legolas didn't even move, didn't cry out, and Belhadron supposed that at least he wasn't feeling any pain from being moved. One elf took off their cloak and draped it over him.

The healers finally appeared, running out of the gates and over the bridge to them. "Get him inside," one of them called out. "Get the stretcher to the healing wards."

Belhadron got to his feet as four elves stepped forwards and picked up the stretcher. "You two," he said to the elves who had accompanied him back from the frontline, even as he turned to run towards the gates after the stretcher. "Go with the healers. Fill them in on what the medic told you, and then I want you standing on guard at the doors. Don't leave until I come."

"Where are going, Captain?" one of them asked.

Belhadron squared his shoulders. "I'm going to get the King."

 _So that was a mess of tropes and cliches, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thranduil is in the next chapter, as the last line suggests, though Belhadron is a bit more of the focus of this story- I've done quite a bit of Thranduil worrying over Legolas, and Belhadron was being a lot more cooperative and easier to write. The next chapter will go up in a few days- Thursday, maybe? Exams start up on Monday, so we'll see how it goes._

 _As always, reviews are very welcome._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 _New chapter for everyone, in which Thranduil turns up, and is suitably concerned as usual. This story does feature Belhadron more heavily than Thranduil, as I've said to some when replying to reviews. This is because Belhadron was just being a lot easier to write when writing this, and I've done the worried Thranduil quite a lot now, so attempted to change things up a little. Also, I'd like to remind people that this isn't actually that long a story! It's only going to be about two to three more chapters after this one, so it's now a blow-by-blow account of Legolas' recovery (I tried to write something like that, but it was like pulling teeth, and I eventually gave up)._

 _I've gotten half of my Jan exams out the way now, and only have four more to go! I get a week off after that, which I'm very much looking forwards to. Hope everyone is doing well. As always, reviews are very welcome- thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter!_

 _0-o-0-o-0_

"Where is the King?"

The elf took a moment too long to answer, and found himself pinned to the wall by an arm to his throat, Belhadron snarling in his face. "Where is the King?" Belhadron growled.

"The council hall, Captain," the elf stammered. He staggered as Belhadron released him and pushed him out of the way, running down the corridor. He nearly called after him, about to warn him that the King had ordered to not be disturbed, but another elf grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't be an idiot," she hissed in his ear. "Look at him. That's not mud on his clothes, you fool. That's blood. And if you had been paying any attention, you would have heard the whispers already spreading."

"What whispers?" he asked.

She fixed him with a look that was scathing, and yet full of worry and a hint of fear. "That Belhadron galloped into the courtyard from an ambush on the frontlines with the Prince badly wounded. And if Belhadron is in that much of a hurry to get the King, not even bothering to clean the blood from himself, then it can only be bad."

0-o-0-o-0

Thranduil gestured with one hand, and one of the messengers standing at the sides of the room stepped forwards to him. "Take this to the advisor," he said, picking up the parchment that had been passed around the table. "I want a reply in an hour."

The messenger bowed, and left the room. Thranduil took stock of the table. His councillors and advisors were arrayed around it, some waiting for the next item to be considered, and some debating amongst themselves over previous things not yet solved. They had already been there for a few hours, and there was still a lot to do.

There came the sound of running feet, and Thranduil's head snapped up at the sudden sound of a scuffle outside the door. The councillors all turned just in time to see the doors flung open, and Belhadron run inside.

Thranduil got to his feet. So did one of the other councillors, one of those who had long held a grudge against Belhadron for being Silvan and so close to the Prince. "What is the meaning of this?" he snapped at Belhadron. "You know you're not allowed in here when we're in session!"

Belhadron didn't even bother with a reply. When the councillor stepped out in front of him, an arm out to block his way, Belhadron reached out and caught his arm, shoving him out the way and nearly sending him to the floor in his haste.

"Captain," Thranduil said, stepping out around the table. He took in the dark stains over Belhadron's clothes, the stains on his hands and the dried blood smeared across one side of his face, and felt his heart sink.

Belhadron stopped in front of him, breathing harshly. "Legolas," he said through gritted teeth. "It's bad."

"How bad?" Thranduil asked, and he was impressed with himself as to how steady he kept his voice.

Belhadron just shook his head. "Bad enough," he said. "He's with the healers now."

Thranduil just nodded, and then stalked towards the door. The same councillor, still standing up, started to try and protest, and Belhadron fixed him with a feral glare, a low growl slipping through his lips. Faced with the anger of the captain, hands still covered in his Prince's blood, the councillor gulped, and sat back down.

"What happened?" Thranduil asked as he headed through the halls. Elves stepped out of his way, bowing low, but he barely seemed to notice.

"I didn't see it," Belhadron said. "But we were ambushed on the border by a company of orcs. We were holding them off until reinforcements arrived, and just as they did an orc somehow got inside of Legolas' guard and dealt him a blow across his side."

"The orc is dead?" Thranduil asked. Belhadron nodded. He saw that Thranduil's hands were clenched into fists at his side, but didn't say anything about it.

"Legolas took him down before he fell," he answered. "I dragged him from the frontline, and got him back here as quickly as I could. The medic did his best whilst we were there, but the ride back was tough. He'd lost consciousness before we left, and didn't regain it on the ride. He was conscious for a few moments in the courtyard before the healers arrived. Beyond that, I don't know anything more."

Thranduil nodded. "I don't want any disturbances," he said as they neared the healing wards. "Post elves on the door who will understand this. Legolas' archers will be keen to stay nearby, I am sure. Any work that you need to do, you can bring into the wards as usual."

"Of course," Belhadron said. "I'll see to that before coming inside." It was a thin excuse to give Thranduil some time alone with the healers, but Thranduil took it.

They arrived at the great wooden doors to the healing wards. The two elves that had accompanied Belhadron back were stood there on guard. Upon seeing him and the King, they both breathed sighs of relief.

"There's been no messages, Captain," one of them said. "Either from the healers, or from anyone else looking to disturb."

Belhadron nodded, and waved his hand for them to leave their posts. Thranduil nodded, and then slipped past the doors, letting them fall shut behind him.

"Get some rest," Belhadron said to the two of them. "You've both done enough for us. But first I need one of you to take a message to Legolas' archers. Any who aren't out on duty should be in their common room or on our training field. Chances are they will have heard what's happened and be on their way, but if not, send a few of them up here. I need to talk to them."

"Of course, Captain," said one. "We'll get the kitchens to send you up some food, and one of your archers can bring up a change of clothes, if you would like us to ask?"

"They're not my archers," Belhadron said, weariness seeping into his voice. "Food would be appreciated, but leave everything else. I'll deal with it. Thank you."

The elves bowed, taking the dismissal for what it was, and then turned and left. Belhadron heaved a sigh, waiting until they were out of sight until he let the strength holding him up waver. He slid down the great wooden doors behind him until he was sat on the floor, the cold seeping into him from the flagstones. He'd been running on the rush of battle for far too long now, and as soon as he stopped it all hit him. He was vaguely aware of his hands starting to tremble.

It only took about ten minutes before he heard the sound of running feet, and then five of Legolas' archers skidded around the corner. He didn't bother getting up from the floor, and just nodded at the worry and fear on their faces.

"This must be bad," one of them said, reaching for Belhadron and pulling him to his feet, regardless of the dried blood staining his hands. "If you are like this."

Belhadron shook his head, trying to shock himself out of the stupor he'd fallen into. "I didn't even see it," he murmured. "I turned around and he was down." He glanced back at the doors. "The King is in there now. He's asked not to be disturbed. I need some of you to guard the door and make sure that doesn't happen."

"Whatever you need," said another. "But if you don't mind, we're going to look after you as well. Legolas would kill us if we didn't."

Belhadron huffed a laugh, but halfway through he choked on it, and barely held back a sob through gritted teeth. One of the elves slung an arm around him. "Come, let's get you cleaned up," he said.

Belhadron shook his head. "No, I can't leave the wards," he said. "Thranduil wanted me around, I think."

"Fair enough," the elf said easily, and he steered Belhadron to a nearby bench and sat him down. "But we're still going to get this blood off you." He glanced over Belhadron's shoulder and nodded. One of the archers headed off down the corridor, and two others took up guard positions on either side of the door.

"We've got this," the archer sat next to Belhadron said. He reached over and began to undo the buckles of his quiver, pulling it off and setting it down at Belhadron's feet. The straps that crossed over Belhadron's chest were dark and stiff with blood. "I trust you can take your own jacket off?"

Belhadron huffed a brief laugh, but undid the buckles and buttons of his thick hunting leather jacket, and slid it from his shoulders. The tunic beneath was also stained with blood, and Belhadron looked down at it for a moment before shrugging, and leaving it alone. His trousers were just as bad as his tunic, and he couldn't be bothered to do anything about them either.

"We'll wait for him to get back with some clean clothes," the elf sitting next to him said. "That jacket is ruined, I'm afraid. The blood won't ever come out of that. If you really want me to, I can use it to scare the novices about what's to come in their training." They did that occasionally; brought out broken weapons and bloodied crossbow quarrels, if they thought the novices needing scaring into putting in the effort and working properly.

Belhadron huffed, and shook his head. "Just throw it away," he said. "I've got others I can wear. Do it before Thranduil sees it as well. I don't think he was really paying that much attention earlier to how much of his son's blood I have on me."

"That's nice and morose," one of the elves standing at guard said. "Is it really that bad?"

Belhadron tossed him the jacket. "That's a lot of blood," he said. "There's more somewhere back on the frontline. I'd say it's pretty bad."

"We're going to need to do damage control," one of the others said. "I've no doubt that plenty of rumours are already spreading. You know how easily these things spiral out of control."

Belhadron waved a hand. "Let's wait for any actual information before we put out an official statement," he replied. "It will have to go through Thranduil anyway."

The elf nodded, and then they fell silent, waiting. Belhadron rested his arms on his legs where he was sat and let his head hang, heaving a sigh.

"He'll be fine," one of them said. "He always is."

"Until he's not," Belhadron muttered. "Until one day this accursed battle manages to finally kill him. You all know that's how it works, so don't try and convince me otherwise."

"No need to snap," one of them reproached. As Legolas' archers, they were familiar enough with Belhadron to be familiar with his temper, too, and had long since stopped being nervous of it like the less experienced elves.

"Of course, there's no reason at all for me to be angry," Belhadron snapped at him. "Not when my best friend and our Prince nearly bled out in front of me just a few hours ago."

"There's plenty of reason for you to be angry," the elf said with a slight smile. "It's just no use to anyone right now." He glanced around at the sound of footsteps. "Good, the food is here. And some new clothes as well."

One of the elves from the kitchen had arrived with a tray of food, and was accompanied by the archer that had left a few minutes ago. He had a pile of clothes in his arms, and a jug of water balanced on top.

"Thank you," one of the elves said, rushing forwards and taking the food from the elf. "Please keep this quiet, if you could." He glanced back at Belhadron, slumped on the bench with blood still coating the tunic and leggings he wore, and more on his hands and face. "We don't need to add to any of the rumours that are surely circulating right now."

"Of course," the elf said. "Send word if you need anything else."

The archer nodded, and set the food down on the bench next to Belhadron. "Here," he said, pouring him a cup of water. "Drink, and then eat."

"Do it one-handed, if you can," said another, crouching down in front of him and wetting a cloth. "Here, give me a hand." He reached out and took one of Belhadron's hands, and began to clean the blood from it as best he could.

"When do you think we'll hear anything?" asked one archer, sneaking some of the bread from the tray and tearing off a piece for himself. "Will the King come out?"

Belhadron shook his head. "Not unless something bad happens," he said. "I'll head in once all of this is cleaned up." He glanced down at the bloody clothes, the cloth that was slowly turning red. "No news is good news, I suppose."

"Shirt," said the elf as he finished cleaning Belhadron's hands. "You can do your own face, thank you very much. It's not much, just some blood across your left cheek and neck." Belhadron just stared blankly into some middle distance, and pulled his tunic off over his head. The archer took it, and swapped it for a clean shirt. "Don't think you're getting this service all the time," he said with a wry smile. "This is a special occasion, that's all."

"As if you'd ever do anything for me without expecting something in return," Belhadron muttered, and the others laughed.

"It's true, we're just doing this so Legolas gives us the week off over the summer solstice," one said with a laugh. "We haven't had that off in years, and there are plans to celebrate."

Belhadron just nodded, rubbing his hands together absent-mindedly, as if the blood still stained them. One of the archers reached out. "Easy," he said, stilling his hands. "You've still got a job to do."

They all knew how loyal Belhadron was to Legolas, how deep it ran and how dangerous it could be when things went wrong. They'd all heard the various tales, embellished as they were passed down through the company. It was tradition to try and scare the new recruits with such stories, and every elf in the company had thought those stories were far too exaggerated until they witnessed such an event themselves.

Whilst Belhadron's loyalty was legendary amongst the companies, and undoubtedly beyond useful to Thranduil, it did have its shortcomings. The older archers, those who had been in the company for probably too many centuries, had seen these types of moments before. When it came to Legolas, Belhadron was easily compromised.

"We have two other elves coming up to take over whatever positions they need to in ten minutes," one archer said, crouching down next to Belhadron. "Then one of us can take any messages that you need to hand out, and do whatever you need us to do."

"We're at your disposal, Belhadron," the other said, gathering up the bloody clothing and stuffing it into a bag. "Whatever you need, we'll get it done." Almost every archer of Legolas' company was in the stronghold at the moment, awaiting their next assignment. As such, there were plenty of elves around that were fiercely loyal to Legolas and Belhadron, to do whatever needed to be done.

Belhadron dropped his head into his hands. "I need to reorganise all of our next assignments for the month," he said. "At least, but we'll start with the month. I need tomorrow's training schedules, because those will need reworking."

"Don't worry about the training," one archer said. "There's plenty of us who weren't assigned anything for tomorrow, and more still who have days off over the coming week or two. We can take over any training that we need to. Leave that to us."

Belhadron nodded. His archers were sacrificing their days off to do this, their precious free time, but they had done this before and he knew that if he protested, it would change nothing.

"There will have to be an official statement," Belhadron murmured, his mind starting to pick up and work again. "I'll write that and give it to the King once I'm in there. Next month's mission with those new recruits of Rhavaniel's needs to be planned out." He huffed a sigh. "Just bring me both boxes from our common room, mine and Legolas', and some parchment and quills."

"I will if you eat some more," one of the archers said. "You did just get ambushed by orcs a few hours ago and then rushed back here and you're no use to anyone, least of all Legolas, if you collapse from exhaustion."

Belhadron managed to eat half a square of lembas bread before shaking his head, and getting to his feet. "I can't delay this anymore," he murmured. "Thank you."

"We have your back," one archer said. "We always do." He stepped back, and watched as Belhadron squared his shoulders, pushed all of the fear and worry to one side, and opened the door.

0-o-0-o-0

The scene that greeted Belhadron on the other side of those doors was something he'd seen a thousand times. He paused for a moment, bracing himself, before making his way to Thranduil's side.

"Any news?" Thranduil asked in a low voice, not looking away from the other end of the room where the healers worked. They'd put up screens to cut off that end of the room, but he could still see their silhouettes, and hear them.

Belhadron shook his head. "His archers are handling things," he murmured. "They've rather stepped up to do what they can to help, but I wouldn't expect any different from them. Their loyalty to him is never in question." He paused, glancing at the healers again. "How is he?"

Thranduil shrugged. "The healers have more important things to do than comfort a father, or speak to their King," he said. "There doesn't seem to have been any kind of crisis. We will just have to wait."

Belhadron nodded, but made no move towards one of the chairs along the wall. Thranduil looked over at him. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No, I'm mostly unharmed," Belhadron replied. Thranduil arched a brow.

"You're holding your right shoulder stiffly," he said. "And guarding that side. Sit down, and I'll get some ice for you to put on it."

Belhadron considered arguing, but one look from Thranduil quickly quelled it, and he sat down in the nearest chair. Thranduil put together a bag of ice from the bucket by the sink. After this long, he knew where everything was in the healing wards. Belhadron leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, and Thranduil set the bag of ice on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Belhadron murmured, pressing the ice to his shoulder. "It's nothing more than a slight strain."

"You don't want to make it any worse," Thranduil warned. "Especially if you have bruised ribs like I think you do. Don't be foolish about this, Captain. I'll need you now more than ever."

Belhadron nodded. "Understood," he said. He reached up and shifted the bag of ice on his shoulder, wincing as a droplet of water snaked down his back. "I've got some of the archers bringing up the work I'll need, and they're more than willing to help coordinate things until we are more certain of what's to come."

He shifted in the chair and something in his side caught, sending white-hot flashes of pain up his side. His breath stuttered in his throat and he tried to stop himself curling up in the chair, hand going to hover over his side.

Thranduil arched a brow as Belhadron uncurled. "I've changed my mind," he said dryly. "That might even be cracked ribs. Get one of the healers to look at them."

"I'm fine," Belhadron said, panting through the pain as it slowly abated. "It's nothing."

"That wasn't a question, Captain," Thranduil said, a little of his authority seeping into his voice. He gestured to one of the healers who was hovering nearby. "Give the Captain whatever medical attention he needs," he said. "At the least, his ribs are bruised."

"Of course, my Lord," the healer said with a small bow. "Captain, come and sit over here and take your shirt off." Thranduil shot him a look, and Belhadron, with a small sigh, followed the healer.

Thranduil held back a wince as Belhadron pulled his shirt off and revealed the large bruising slowly forming over his side. He'd received many injuries over the centuries, but he'd always held a distaste for broken ribs. They hurt more than anyone realised and took far too long to heal. Belhadron's were likely only cracked, at the most; Thranduil doubted that he could have hidden broken ribs from the archers when they came up to look after him.

There was a flurry of activity at the other end of the room that had both Belhadron and Thranduil suddenly on alert. A healer approached them, and Belhadron waved off the healer trying to bind his ribs and got to his feet with a wince, coming to stand beside Thranduil.

"With a long recovery, he'll be fine," were the first words out of the healer's mouth, because she knew what they both wanted to hear.

"How long?" Belhadron asked, jumping in before Thranduil could speak. "Are you talking weeks, or months?"

"Two to three months before he can return to restricted duty, at a guess," the healer said. "But we'll have to wait and see. The damage was extensive, but luckily there was no poison on the blade. The main concern now is the amount of blood that he lost, but though it is serious, I would say that it is no longer life threatening. He'll make a full recovery."

Belhadron breathed out a sigh and turned away, running his hand through his hair. Thranduil was stoic, but if someone looked closely they might have seen his shoulders drop, the momentary flicker of overwhelming relief in his eyes before his gaze shuttered.

The healer kept speaking, talking about muscle damage and recovery times, and Belhadron manage to actually listen to about a third of it. After a few minutes the healer stopped, and looked at him with an exasperated glare.

"Go on, Captain," she said, nodding towards the other end of the room. "He's still unconscious, and will be for a few days, but I don't think I could keep you from seeing him if I tried."

Belhadron briefly glanced at Thranduil, who nodded. With a quick murmur of thanks, he all but ran to the other end of the room. Thranduil watched him all but collapse into a chair next to Legolas' still form, and briefly found himself wishing that he could do the same; could stay in this room until Legolas awoke and they knew he would recover, not have to leave after a few hours because he was King, and the realm always had to come first.

 _I like the idea of scary Belhadron- someone who, when it is required of him- perfectly willing to make himself as terrifying as possible in order to get what he or someone else needs. And the relationship between Thranduil and Belhadron was quite fun to write, for this story, precisely because it's quite hard to pin down. Belhadron is one of Thranduil's soldiers, but he's also the best friend of his son, who has repeatedly nearly died for his son, and that complicates things._

 _Next chapter should come along on the weekend, possibly? Or Monday? I'm not quite sure how smothered by work I'm going to be, so we'll see what happens. As always, reviews are very welcome._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 _Next chapter is here! Be warned, this gets a bit angsty at one point. For anyone who liked the relationship between Thranduil and Belhadron last chapter, there's more of it here. Legolas will wake up at some point, but not quite yet!_

 _I only have three exams left to go, and I am so ready to have the week off next week, go home and just sleep for the entire week. Hope everyone is doing well, and as always, reviews are very welcome._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

"No, I honestly do think he'll come out the other side. He always does."

The other elf shook his head. "Precedence is useless, you know that," she replied. The two were standing guard outside the doors to the healing wards, but since they were in the stronghold, technically off duty and merely doing this because it was Legolas behind those doors, they didn't stay to protocol and remain silent, but had fallen to quiet conversation as they stood there.

"He's not going to die," the first one said. "If he was, Belhadron would have been far worse. He's seen too much to not know what a fatal wound looks like."

"He was pretty bad as it was," the other mused. "It's rare that you see the fight taken out of him like that. But I suppose things would be a lot worse if Legolas was actually…well, you know. Belhadron would have certainly snapped if that was going to happen." She huffed a sigh. "He'll have a pretty long recovery, though. You saw Belhadron's jacket, when we came up to swap over. That was a lot of blood."

"He'll make our lives miserable, when he's getting better," one said with a groan. "He always does when he's not able to do anything himself. And Belhadron will be infuriating for everyone to deal with, because he won't be able to stop him when Legolas pushes himself too far too soon."

The other huffed a laugh. "He always does," she murmured. "But then I suppose we all do. Do you think it's one of the requirements for joining the company?"

The other elf laughed, leaning back against the wall next to the door. "Next time they interview for recruits, we should try and get a look at their lists," she said. "See if that's written down there."

The elf shuddered. "I don't want to go anywhere near those interviews again," she said. "Did they make you go through all the fitness tests that lasted for about a week?"

"Of course, they make everyone do that," the other replied. "I thought the interrogations were bad enough. Especially when Belhadron got Rhavaniel's people to come in."

Both of them shuddered at the thought. To be accepted into the elite companies, elves had to go through rigorous selection and interviews after being approved by the captains, to ensure that only the best elves, ones that could withstand the intense pressure, would be chosen. Belhadron and Legolas spent weeks doing this, going so far as to take a week where all they did was work with the recruits, forgoing all their other duties to make sure they chose the right elves. For any elf who had successfully passed through into the company, it was not something they wanted to relive.

"We can get Rhavaniel to tell us?" one offered, and the other promptly laughed.

"As if Rhavaniel would tell us anything," she said. "We're just Legolas' archers to her, and I think she sees anyone who isn't one of her people, Legolas or Belhadron, as just a nuisance."

"Do you think there's anything between Belhadron and Rhavaniel?"

The other elf promptly choked on a laugh. "Maybe?" she offered. She thought about it for a moment. "Actually, you might be right. They spend a lot of time together, even off duty. Didn't Belhadron go back to her family home with her last year in their time off?"

"He did," the other replied. "I have friends who live up north in that direction, and apparently that isn't something that's only happened once. They've seen the two of them travelling to wherever Rhavaniel's home village is quite a few times over the decades. Of course, they don't know who Rhavaniel and Belhadron actually are, but the descriptions match. Legolas is never with them either."

"Do you think…?"

"No, they couldn't be married," she said with a laugh. "Not yet, at least. There's no way we wouldn't know if they were. I think they're dancing around each other for some reason or another, and neither will take the first step of admitting maybe there is something more."

"Do you think Rhavaniel would kill us if we tried to help them out?" one asked.

The other laughed. "I think we'd be dead as soon as we even thought about doing anything," she said. "Maybe Legolas will help us out."

"We can use it as a distraction for when he's recovering," she offered. "It'll give him something to do."

"I think-"

The elf cut herself off as they heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and they both stood to attention in front of the doors to the healing wards as one of Thranduil's councillors strode around the corner and towards them.

"Let me through," he said, waving one hand at them. "I want to speak to the King."

"The King isn't taking any visitors," one elf said, staring at a spot above the councillor's head. "If you leave a message, we will be happy to pass it on."

"Don't be ridiculous," the councillor scoffed. "The King will see me, so if one of you could let me in, then all of this will be a lot easier for everyone."

Neither of the elves moved. "We are under orders to not let anyone enter the healing wards," one said. "You will have to wait until the King is available."

"Who's orders?" the councillor asked.

"Captain Belhadron, my Lord," one replied. "He was very clear about his wishes in this matter."

The councillor scoffed again. "Well, if it was his orders, then you can happily disregard them," he said. "That elf has no authority here, not over me."

The two elves on guard exchanged a glance. "We have our orders," one said. "You cannot pass through these doors, and the King will not see you now. If you would like, we can send a message when he does become available."

"Don't be ridiculous," the councillor said. "Let me through." He stepped forwards, and instantly the two elves moved in front of him, blocking his entrance to the door. One of them reached back and knocked on the door.

"We cannot let you through," one repeated again, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Please leave a message for when the King is available."

The councillor's face turned red, and he opened his mouth, but before he could say anything the door behind the elves creaked open, and Belhadron slipped through.

He looked tired. There was a weight to his shoulders that was even more prominent now, and a weariness to his movements as he quietly shut the door behind him. He glanced at the councillor standing there, and then turned to the elves standing guard. "Why is he still here?" he asked them, his voice quiet and resigned.

"These elves will not let me through to see the King," the councillor protested.

"Of course they won't," Belhadron said, turning to the councillor. "They're doing so under my orders."

"Well, you need to rescind your orders and let me through," the councillor snapped. Belhadron held back a sigh, and just looked at the elf.

"It's obviously not that important, or someone else would be bringing the message," he said. "And one of the other captains would have come to inform me. The King is not available at the moment. I can pass on the message, if you would like."

"As if I would let you anywhere near this message," the councillor replied with a sneer. "Get out of my way, Belhadron."

"It's Captain, thank you very much," Belhadron replied. "And I will not move out of the way. You are not permitted to see the King at this moment. I will have a message sent to you when he is available, and not before." He pivoted, heading back into the room.

"Do not turn away from me!"

Belhadron paused, his hand on the door. "Excuse me?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

"You heard me," the councillor snapped. "How dare you, a mere Silvan elf who isn't even a real captain, defy me? I demand that you let me through!"

Belhadron's expression shuttered. "You do not get to demand anything from me," he said. "Not today. I'm so sorry if it offends you that a mere Silvan elf, as you put it, is standing in your way, but that isn't my problem, it's yours. You are not coming through."

"Now see here-"

"No, you see here," Belhadron retorted quickly. "I don't think you quite understand the situation here, so let me explain it for you." The two archers almost stepped back at the fury apparent on his face, even though it wasn't directed at them. "My Prince is lying behind those doors with the healers. I watched him get cut down by orcs only a few hours ago. So if you think I am going to spend anymore time than I need to on placating you, someone who is so unimportant in this situation that I can't even begin to explain it, then you are sorely mistaken."

"Whatever you have to say to the King, it can wait. It will wait. And if you persist in this notion that somehow, what you have to say is more important to the King than his own son, then you shall see what mere Silvan elves can do."

He paused. "Oh, and in this situation? I am currently in Legolas' position as Captain, so I do actually have authority. More than you ever will." He glanced at the archers to either side of him. "If he does not leave, then you have my permission to remove him using force."

The councillor just stared at Belhadron as he turned back to the door. "I have had a very long day, councillor," Belhadron said over his shoulder. "Do not try me. It will not end well for you." He slipped back through the door, and quietly shut it behind him.

There was silence in the corridor. The two archers exchanged a glance, and slow smiles spread across their faces. "So, councillor," one of them said. "How would you like this to go?"

0-o-0-o-0

Belhadron shut the door behind him and leant back on it, heaving a sigh. Thranduil, sat next to Legolas' bed, looked up.

"What was it?" he asked.

Belhadron shook his head, walking over and taking back his chair. He briefly leant forwards and rested his palm on Legolas' chest, reassuring himself of the slight rise and fall as he breathed. "One of your councillors wanted to speak to you," he said. "I sent him away."

Thranduil nodded. "Was it important?" he asked.

Belhadron shook his head. "If it was, one of the captains or someone more important would have come," he said. "If it was really important, then they wouldn't have used that door, and would already be in this room. He was very resistant to leaving, though."

"Resistant to leaving, or resistant to you?" Thranduil asked. "I'm well aware that some of my councillors do not like the fact that you are so close to Legolas, given your heritage." He caught the expression that flitted across Belhadron's face, and shook his head. "Don't mistake my councillors' feelings for my own," he said. "Your loyalty to Legolas has always been incredibly valuable to me."

"They'll get over it," Belhadron said with a sigh. "It is better than it was a few decades ago, and much better than the first few years after Legolas promoted me to his second. I could barely do anything without being confronted by someone back then."

Thranduil nodded. He remembered Legolas snapping at him more than once about his councillors and how some of them treated Belhadron in the first few years after he rose in the army's ranks. He couldn't have done much, even if he had wanted to; he had known that this would have been a problem as soon as Legolas appointed Belhadron as his second, but watched and waited to see how Belhadron would react, and whether the risk was worth it.

Obviously, it had been.

Belhadron huffed a sigh, and pulled some of his work back towards him. "Do you still want that southern mission that's set for next month to go ahead?" he asked. "If Legolas' archers get put towards training and shorter missions, then I don't know if we'll have enough elves on that mission."

"Can we take from Rhavaniel's people?" Thranduil asked. "Or any of the other companies? I don't want to pull the mission unless it's absolutely necessary. We need to know the state of those southern paths and the woods down around the mountains. Are you assigned to that mission?"

Belhadron hesitated, and then shook his head. "Initially I was, but I think it might be better for me to coordinate from back here. Legolas will still be out of commission, so it will probably be best for me to be around rather than in the south. We can set up a message relay back up here if we need to."

Thranduil nodded. "That'll work," he said. "See it is done. The final plans need to be settled in a week so we have enough time to prepare contingency plans."

Legolas shifted in his sleep, his brow creasing as he moved, and Belhadron instantly tensed. Thranduil reached out and ran a hand through Legolas' hair, smoothing it back from his forehead until he settled. "How long do I have before councillors are trying to knock down the door?"

"Four hours," Belhadron guessed. "Maybe five. Legolas' archers and I can try and stall them for you as much as possible, but it won't last that long. Eventually they'll override us."

Thranduil nodded. "I'll stay for a few more hours, and then I will have to go," he said. "Try and sleep, if you can, before I leave. You must be tired."

Belhadron hesitated, and Thranduil arched a brow. "You are no use to anyone if you are exhausted," he said. "There are plenty of free beds. Take one, and get an hour or so of sleep, and I'll wake you if anything important comes for you or before I need to leave." He levelled him with a look. "There's no point in trying to argue this, Belhadron."

The beds next to Legolas' were all made up and ready for patients, but standing empty. All Belhadron did was toe off his boots before collapsing onto one of them, not even bothering to pull a blanket up over himself or take off the jacket someone had brought up for him to wear.

Belhadron rolled over so he could see the still form of Legolas from where he was lying. The last thing he felt was the feeling of a blanket falling softly over him, as his eyes unfocused and he wandered into sleep.

0-o-0-o-0

Sleep still tugged at him, enough to know that he hadn't had nearly enough, but he fought against it back to wakefulness. He'd rolled over in his sleep, so that when his eyes focused he was looking at the doors of the healing wards. With a soft sigh he rolled back over, pushing the soft blanket that had somehow ended up on him off as he sat up.

Legolas was in the next bed, still unconscious. Belhadron watched him for a moment as he stretched out his shoulders, wincing at the pull across his side from what he assumed were bruised ribs. He'd had worse, and he would continue to ignore them unless they became a problem.

Thranduil wasn't around, which Belhadron thought was odd. The King may have a lot going on, but Belhadron doubted he would forget to wake him up before leaving, or at least leave a message with the healers for him. But then the past day hadn't exactly been normal.

Belhadron stretched out his shoulder as he padded across the short space between beds to check on Legolas. He was turned away from him, to take the pressure off the wound in his side, and all Belhadron could see was his blond hair limp across the pillow.

Belhadron reached out and put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. He frowned slightly, wondering if perhaps he should throw another blanket on top of him. He seemed a little too cold.

Legolas was still deeply unconscious, and Belhadron slid his hair away from his face to check his temperature. He frowned. Before he'd gone to sleep Legolas had had a slight fever, but now he felt cold.

Belhadron's fingers slipped to Legolas' neck to check his pulse, just as an afterthought.

His breath stuttered in his throat.

A broken moan slipped from his lips, a litany of _no_ as he fumbled for a pulse, for a sign that Legolas was breathing, for anything beyond the stillness and silence. But there was nothing, no steady heartbeat beneath his fingers, no rise and fall of his chest, no colour to his cheeks. His eyes had slid shut.

Belhadron screamed, a horrible, ragged sound that was ripped from his chest. His hands were shaking, his whole body was trembling as a words spilled from his lips, _no please no Elbereth no, no please don't let him go, don't, please no_ shouted out to anyone who was listening, anyone who could help because Legolas was just lying there and he wasn't moving, he wasn't breathing, there wasn't a pulse beneath his fingers and he was so _still_.

There was nobody there, nobody doing anything; he was alone and Legolas wasn't moving and Belhadron didn't know what to do but scream, the sound tearing his throat but still not enough because no pain could be enough, nothing could hurt enough to take away from the anger and grief tearing through him like fire and ice and everything between.

Hands grabbed hold of him, pulling him back and away from _him_. Belhadron shouted out wordlessly and fought against them, stumbling forwards towards the bed. He wanted to turn and lash out, wanted to reach for a knife and fight off anyone who thought that they could keep him away, drag him out of the room like he didn't deserve to be here, like he didn't need to be here because Legolas was _dead_ and nothing he could do would result in the pain that he deserved, but this was a start, and now someone was trying to drag him away.

A hand shook his shoulder, and Belhadron suddenly felt like he was falling, down through where the floor should be into darkness and shadow and he didn't really mind, in that moment, where he ended up. But the moment was only a moment, not oblivion itself, and Belhadron jolted awake with a hand shaking his shoulder, and a familiar voice calling his name.

His throat felt raw, like he'd been screaming out loud and not just in his dreams. A second later, the full force of the dream hit him like a flood and he choked on his next breath. He scrambled to get out of bed, pushing aside whoever had woken him up in his desperation to make sure that his dream was wrong, that Legolas was still breathing and his pulse was still there and that he was still alive. His legs tangled in the blanket and he fell to the floor, pain shooting up through his knees, but he didn't care.

He didn't realise he was weeping until he could feel Legolas' pulse beneath his fingers, could see his chest slowly rising and falling, and only then did he feel the cold tracks down his cheeks. There was a hand digging into his shoulder.

"Belhadron," a low voice said. "Belhadron, step away." Belhadron could feel his chest heaving, his breaths short and sharp and not enough, nowhere near enough. The hand on his shoulder tightened and then started to pull him away. Belhadron tried half-heartedly to fight it off, but he couldn't breathe properly and his vision was blurred with the tears still falling down his cheeks, and his legs were suddenly unsteady underneath him as he shook.

Someone hooked an arm around his chest, hauled him up and pushed him into a chair. They put a hand on his neck and forced his head down. "Breathe," someone said, and Belhadron, through the sounds of his own breathing echoing in his ears, recognised Thranduil's voice.

"Just breathe slowly," he said, keeping Belhadron's head down. "It was just a dream."

Belhadron nodded, running one hand across his face to try and wipe away the tears, and regain some sort of control. It didn't quite work. His hands were trembling; it felt like his whole body was shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. Thranduil's hand still rested on the back of Belhadron's neck, but he now pulled Belhadron's hair out of his face before crouching down in front of him.

"Belhadron, breathe," he said slowly. "Whatever it was, it was just a dream. I promise you that. Legolas is alive; he's going to recover, he's going to be fine eventually. Just breathe, Belhadron."

Belhadron nodded, and against all his body's instincts managed to draw in a deep gulp of air. He felt Thranduil squeeze the back of his neck, and briefly wondered how absurd this was, that his King was the one talking him through this.

He stayed slumped over in the chair for another half hour, though he got his breathing back under control in the first ten minutes. The enormity of everything had hit, and Belhadron felt like he couldn't have moved even if he'd been ordered to.

Of course, he knew that wasn't right. If an order had come he would have gotten up. That was the way his life worked. It was just sometimes more reassuring to pretend otherwise.

Thranduil was still next to him when Belhadron finally looked up, rubbing his face with one hand. The healers were wisely at the other end of the room, looking very busy with something. "Sorry," he murmured softly.

"There's no need," Thranduil said quietly. He sat down in the chair next to Legolas' bed, and smoothed the limp blond hair back from his son's forehead.

"You are allowed to have moments where nothing is all right," Thranduil said softly. "I do not expect even you, Belhadron, to cope with everything this world is determined to throw at you, and not take even half an hour to grieve, or whatever you would like to call it. Sometimes it hits you all at once, and there's never any shame in that."

Belhadron nodded slowly. "I didn't even see it," he murmured. "I just turned around and he was on the ground. And I know, Elbereth do I know that this is the nature of war, and that these things will happen." He laughed, a hollow sound. "I know this is what we signed up for, this possibility that we will die for this cause, but…" He sighed, trailing off.

"It's still difficult," Thranduil said. "And even though you know this cannot be your fault, somehow you still blame yourself. I know." He sighed, and suddenly looked old. "Believe me, I know."

It was rare that Thranduil was more his friend's father than the King in front of him, but Belhadron wasn't going to say anything about it. He watched Thranduil for a moment, for as long as he thought he could get away with it. Through Legolas, he knew a lot of the history of the realm, and of its rulers. He knew some of Thranduil's history that he doubted many others knew, things that Legolas had told him in the very early hours of the morning and the darkness of the southern woods, when their words were swallowed by the forest around them.

On days like this, when the world bore more heavily than he could bear on their shoulders, he wondered whether what he felt was pity, of just grief, and whether there was really a difference between the two.

 _So sorry for the angst- well, not really, but you know what I mean. Also, I loved writing Belhadron just taking that councillor to pieces. Thranduil's PoV will happen at some point, next chapter I think, but again, this is Belhadron heavy, this story. Hope that doesn't disappoint anyone._

 _Also, I just wanted to say that the 20th of January was a rough day for a lot of people- I couldn't look at the news, because all I would see was Trump, and I know a lot of people are scared about what this means for the world- I know I am. But the next day was incredible. Seeing the amount of people across the world that stood up and protested, the millions that joined the women's marches, it was a hopeful sight. A lot of people spoke a lot more eloquently than I could about it, so I'm just going to leave here my two favourite quotes I saw from that day:_

 _'Respect my existence, or expect my resistance.'_

 _'Resistance is built on hope.'_

 _Thank you to all of those who still hope. As always, reviews are very welcome. I'll see you all on Monday, most likely._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 _New chapter here for everyone! This is the second to last chapter, and there will be an epilogue/chapter of sorts posted sometime next week, but then that's it! Hopefully there'll be some more works coming soon, but I can't promise anything._

 _For the guest who asked in a review: Belhadron's title/job is a little complicated. He's Legolas' second in command, so he's not technically a captain, but he basically is because of how long he's been around and because he does a lot of things that a captain does as Legolas gives him that freedom. But when Legolas is incapacitated or not there, Belhadron is acting Captain, because he's the second in command, so he takes charge._

 _As always, reviews are very welcome. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read this work so far- it means a lot to me!_

 _0-o-0-o-0_

Thranduil stayed by Legolas' bedside for as long as he could manage, watching the rise and fall of his son's chest as he slept. He could feel the deep well of worry and grief that lurked beneath his thoughts, but he refused to let it rise. Not even with the bloodstained bandages on the table nearby, or the concerned murmurs of the healers, would he let that overtake him.

Belhadron was sat on the other side of the bed, buried in work. Occasionally he'd hand something over to Thranduil to read or sign, but for the most part he was silent. Thranduil could see the turmoil still very close to the surface of his skin, so he didn't push.

Legolas stirred uneasily on the bed, and Thranduil reached out for him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. It was too hot under his touch, and Thranduil did what he could, wetting a cloth and placing it over Legolas' forehead.

Belhadron looked up. "Is it getting much higher?" he asked, worry leaking into his voice.

Thranduil shook his head. "No higher than it should be, I think," he replied. "I'll have the healer check when they next come over, but it's probably nothing." Legolas had been badly injured, and it was only to be expected that he developed a slight fever to fight off any infection.

His attention turned back to his son. He should be working; Elbereth knew that there was far too much that needed to be done. But for a few hours, he was going to sit here and he was going to let himself be a father. Which meant mindlessly worrying over all the things that could go wrong in the next few days.

He'd been here before. He'd sat here many times before, sometimes with Belhadron sitting opposite, sometimes with Belhadron lying in the next bed over. And the fear never changed, only grew each time, along with the feeling that his luck was running thin. After all of these years, after so many near misses and lucky escapes that had kept his son alive, he wondered when they were going to run out.

0-o-0-o-0

The room was, in the early hours of the morning, quiet. A healer was on duty, as always, and there were a few more elves in the other beds that had been brought in from the front line, but they were asleep and silent. Legolas was unconscious still, his fever going down so slowly nobody was sure if it really was, but the healers were no longer treading carefully around him, so Belhadron assumed things were looking better.

He heaved a sigh, and looked back down at the report he'd been attempting to read. There was a pile of paperwork on the bedside table that he'd been working through for hours now, and he was fairly sure he'd read the report in his hands at least three times without actually taking any of it in.

"This is all your fault," he muttered, looking down at Legolas' sleeping form. He huffed a laugh. "And now I'm talking to you whilst you're unconscious. Great. I really haven't had enough sleep."

"You know, they say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," came a soft voice from the shadows. Belhadron was proud that he didn't reach for the knife now resting on the table.

"What's the next sign?" he asked wryly as Rhavaniel stepped out of the shadows and towards the bed. "Homicidal tendencies towards your extended family? Shortly followed by unrestrained urges to burn a fleet of ships?"

Rhavaniel's lips curled in a grin. "You've been reading too many of Legolas' history books," she said, coming to perch on the edge of the bed. "How is he?"

"A little better," Belhadron said with a shrug. He reached out and took the cloth off Legolas' forehead, rewetting it with a bowl of ice water on the floor before putting it back. "It'll take a while for him to come back from this, though."

"And you?"

Belhadron arched a brow. "What about me?" he asked.

Rhavaniel studied him for a moment. "You look exhausted," she said. "You don't have to sit here, you know. Even Thranduil has gone."

"Thranduil is King," Belhadron murmured, turning back to the report in his hand. "He hardly has the luxury to do what he wants. He trusts me to send word if anything changes, and to make decisions if he is not here. Therefore, I stay here."

"You need to come back to work soon," Rhavaniel said. "You can't hide here forever."

"What do you think I am doing?" Belhadron asked, gesturing at the parchment piled on the bedside table. "This isn't fun, even by your twisted standards of enjoyment. This is my work at the moment."

Rhavaniel levelled him with a look that had made lesser elves cringe. As it was, Belhadron just arched a brow and turned back to his report. "You know what I mean," she said. "The frontline is a delicate situation. Without Legolas, we need you there."

"I'm needed here," Belhadron murmured. "And no, not just because Legolas is there unconscious. His archers need direction, and someone needs to coordinate the army from a position of strength, not from a constantly moving command position in the southern woods."

Rhavaniel snorted. "Even on the best of days his archers don't have any direction at all," she said. "That's why they're his archers. They can look after themselves, or we can split the company up and integrate them with the other companies until Legolas is back."

"If you want to do that, you can tell them," Belhadron said. "They won't be happy, though. They're all terribly protective of Legolas."

"Really?" Rhavaniel asked dryly. "I hadn't noticed." She studied Legolas for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. It was only because he'd known her for so long that Belhadron could see how shaken Rhavaniel had been by the news of Legolas' injuries. It was hard to tell in just the light of the small lantern he was working with, but he suspected she'd come straight to the healing wards from whatever assignment she'd had.

"I'm not against you coordinating from here," she said. "Though you know that's not as easy or as useful as it sounds, given the delay in messages reaching here from the frontline. But you're compromised, Belhadron, and you know it."

"Don't worry," Belhadron said with a wry smile. "I'm not about to go and find a fleet of ships to burn. And my days of seeking whatever revenge I can find are quite far behind me now. We all learnt those lessons a while ago, and you know that."

Rhavaniel sighed, and got up from the edge of the bed. She walked over to him and wrapped an arm around him. "He's going to be fine," she murmured. "All of the healers think that, even the ones who are usually miserable about everything." She twisted, glancing at him. "You do know this wasn't your fault, right?"

Belhadron snorted. "You know that's one of the first things that we teach more experienced soldiers," he replied. "You know all of us captains have spent hours, at one point or another, talking an elf down from that proverbial cliff. Knowing when something was your fault, and when the world is just plotting against you and you did everything you could and it went wrong regardless, is one of the most important things to know with this perpetual bloody war."

Rhavaniel arched a brow. "And yet, you didn't answer my question," she said, pulling away and looking over at him, her face shadowed in the dim light. "I've seen the frontline. In chaos like that, it's often down to luck whether you walk away unscathed."

Belhadron rolled his eyes. "I may only be Legolas' second, but I do know about these things," he said. "I've been in the army longer than you have, Rhavaniel."

Rhavaniel laughed softly, and Belhadron's features softened into a slight smile. He knew that this was just her way of making sure he was coping well enough, and he would grant it to her, if only because he would end up in some sort of pain if he fought against it.

Rhavaniel sighed, and then got to her feet. "I'll leave you to your vigil," she said. "I've got to see the King, and I have work to do. I'll come fetch you if the need arises, or whenever I decide you've been sitting around for too long and need to properly get back to work."

Belhadron nodded. "Can you tell Thranduil that his fever has gone down a little?" he asked. "And give him these reports to sign off on." He handed over a stack of parchment to Rhavaniel, and watched her walk away until he couldn't distinguish her from the shadows anymore.

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas stayed unconscious for three days. After the first night Belhadron had to go back to work, and left the healing wards with Legolas' archers still standing guard. The frontline was still a mess, though once the initial attack had been contained it was more a matter of pushing the orcs back and doing what they could to ensure they weren't able to recoup and attack again. Rhavaniel's spies spent a lot of time beyond the lines, making sure that didn't happen.

Belhadron dropped his head into his hands, and looked at one of the other two captains at the table. "Do we really have to do this now?" he asked. "Right now?"

"The orders are two weeks late," one said with a wry smile. "If we don't, we won't have any new weapons for the next six months." At those words, the third captain groaned, and dropped her head to the table.

"When is the next report from the frontline coming in?" she asked one of the lieutenants, all sat at the other end of the table. "And where is the last one?"

One of the lieutenants shuffled through the various pieces of parchment on the table, pulling one out and handing it over. Belhadron levelled the lieutenants with a glare, just on principle. After all, he had a reputation to maintain, and with Legolas still unconscious in the healing wards, he wasn't inclined to be nice to them.

After some debate the lieutenants were sent off to do whatever it was they needed them to do, and Belhadron eyed the empty inkpot on the table, wondering if he threw it at them as they left he'd get in trouble. One of the captains huffed a laugh.

"I say we never let Legolas do anything dangerous again," she said. "If it puts you in this foul a mood. We should make him become a scholar, not a warrior."

Belhadron rolled his eyes. "Do you honestly think I wouldn't have done that if I could?" he asked. "Believe me, my life would be so much easier." He sighed, resisting the urge to screw up the report in front of him and throw it in the fire. "I'm going to grab a few minutes of sleep on the divan. Wake me up after twenty minutes."

He got up and headed over to the various couches in front of the fire, pulling off his sword belt and setting the weapon down at the side of the couch. "Don't get mud on it," warned one of the captains, and Belhadron glowered at them before toeing off his boots and all but collapsing onto the divan. In no more than a few minutes he was asleep.

"I don't care if the King murders me for it, I am giving Legolas a piece of my mind as soon as he's awake," one of the captains muttered. "He makes all of our lives more difficult whenever this happens."

"Who, Legolas or Belhadron?" the other asked with a wry grin. "They're both as stubborn as each other, so you won't make any difference." She glanced at Belhadron. "We're not waking him up after half an hour, are we?"

"Of course not." The captain shuffled around some of the parchment in front of them, and picked up her quill. "He's been worrying over Legolas for days. Let him sleep whilst he can."

They pinned a note to the door with a knife to warn people to be quiet, and got on with their work as Belhadron slept. If they'd left him alone, they were fairly sure that he would have slept for hours, catching up on all the rest he'd missed or foregone for Legolas over the past few days.

Unfortunately, things got in the way. The door was shoved open only an hour or so after Belhadron fell asleep, with an elf rushing in. Belhadron stirred on the divan, sitting up slowly as one of the other captains fixed the elf with a glare.

"Next time, learn to read," she snapped.

"Not important," the other elf snapped back, and Belhadron recognised the voice, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, of one of Legolas' archers. Hope and dread kindled simultaneously as he got to his feet, shoving his boots on.

"Belhadron," the archer said, a grin flicking across her face. "He's waking up."

0-o-0-o-0

The darkness seemed annoyingly familiar. There was someone talking. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but their voice was familiar and he clung onto it. He didn't use it to pull himself anywhere, didn't do anything but try and listen. He felt tired, beyond anything else, and didn't want to do much more than just drift in the darkness.

The voice got more demanding, and slowly the darkness began to break up around him. He made the mistake of moving, and a choked gasp slipped through his lips at the flash of pain through his side.

The first thing he saw, when his eyes finally flickered open, was the plain white ceiling of the healing ward that he unfortunately knew quite well. He turned his head slightly, wincing at the aches sinking through his entire body and the sharp stabbing pain in his side.

Belhadron was sat in a chair next to his bed, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "You're a sight for sore eyes," he murmured. "Welcome back."

Legolas grimaced. "Not sure I want to be back quite yet," he whispered. "How long?"

"Three days," Belhadron answered. His face was enough to tell Legolas everything, but Belhadron spoke anyway. "You cut it close this time."

"Sorry," Legolas rasped. "I didn't really mean to."

Belhadron laughed, but it was far too close to a sob, and grief spasmed across his face for a moment. "The healers say you're going to be fine," he said. "A long recovery, but you'll be back to normal in a few months." He glanced up, looking over at something Legolas couldn't see. "And they're giving me not very subtle glares," he added, laughing. "I'll get out of their way, and let your archers know you're awake. They're very worried about you."

Legolas huffed a laugh, and then winced. "Tell them I'm… tell them whatever you want," he whispered. Belhadron laughed, and got to his feet.

"It is very good to see you," Belhadron said, grasping Legolas' hand. "And I'm going to leave before the healers chase me away. Your father should be here any moment; they sent for him at the same time they sent for me." He gave Legolas' hand a final squeeze, and then walked away with some reluctance.

It was only a few minutes before the doors flew open and Thranduil strode in. The healers wisely stepped back from the bed.

"Legolas," he breathed, crouching down beside the bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," whispered Legolas, a faint smile on his lips. Thranduil stroked the hair back from his face.

"That's to be expected," he replied. "Don't worry about anything. You're going to be fine, and between Belhadron and I we've got everything covered. Just focus on getting better."

Legolas grimaced. "That's boring," he whispered back, because he knew it would make his father lose the worried pinch of his brows.

Thranduil laughed under his breath, a fond look on his face as he ran his hand through Legolas' hair, like he had done when he was a child. "I'm sure your archers will come up with plenty of ways to entertain you," he said. "They're all waiting outside now, but I told them they're not going to see you until you've regained a little more of your strength." Legolas hummed in agreement. His eyes were already flickering shut against his will, merely staying awake for a few minutes taxing enough. Thranduil pressed another kiss to his forehead.

"Go to sleep," he murmured. "I'll see you when you wake up."

Legolas murmured a protest, but it was swallowed by a yawn. Without any say in it, he fell into sleep.

0-o-0-o-0

The wound had been serious, and for the next three days Legolas only managed to be awake for minutes at a time, if not less. At least one of his archers was always there; they were taking their guard duties very seriously, and had not stopped standing at sentry at the door since Legolas had been brought in. Belhadron spent as much time in the healing wards as possible as well, often working right beside Legolas' bed, but he was a Captain, and he had a job to do.

Thranduil visited every day, as often as his own responsibilities would allow him to. Sometimes he could only stay for a few minutes before someone came looking for him and he had to leave, but sometimes, late at night when the realm was quiet, he managed to stay beside Legolas' bed for hours.

It was one of these nights, with the healing wards quiet and lit by the soft light of lanterns hanging from the walls, that Legolas woke up once again. He grimaced, wincing at the ache in his side.

"How do you feel?" Thranduil asked softly, smoothing Legolas' hair back from his forehead.

"Tired," Legolas murmured. "As usual. It's going to get boring soon."

A smile curled the corners of Thranduil's lips. "Please don't get bored and try to get out of bed when you're not ready," he said. "You've scared me enough over the past week."

"Sorry," Legolas murmured. Thranduil shook his head.

"Don't apologise," he said. "Don't ever apologise for doing your job, or for getting hurt because of it. You never asked for this life, but you've shouldered it none the less, and I am so very proud of you for it. So you don't ever need to apologise. I'm your father. It's my job to worry."

Legolas huffed a laugh. "You're getting sentimental," he said with a grin. "Careful, or someone will see and your reputation will be ruined."

Thranduil scoffed. "I don't care if my reputation is in tatters, as long as you are safe," he replied. "You know that you're more important than anyone else." He reached out and took Legolas' hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it and feeling the reassuring pulse beneath the skin of his wrist.

Legolas smiled, but yawned halfway through. He winced as the movement pulled at his side. "Go back to sleep," Thranduil murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Get better." Legolas nodded, but his eyelids were already flickering shut, and soon he fell back into sleep. Thranduil stayed there, hand loosely holding onto Legolas', beneath the soft light of the lanterns.

Legolas murmured a protest, but it was swallowed by a yawn. Without any say in it, he fell into sleep.

 _As always, reviews are very welcome. I'll see you all next week._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

 _So here it is, the last chapter (it's an epilogue of sorts, so is quite short). I'm so glad that so many people enjoyed this story, and hopefully I'll have some more works done soon enough- the AU where Legolas is with Aragorn at the Prancing Pony is slowly progressing, and it's getting somewhere!_

 _Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, and especially to all those people who have stuck with me for quite a while now! It really means a lot to see the same people coming back and reviewing my stories over the months._

 _As always, reviews are very welcome. Thank you all for reading._

 _0-o-0-o-0_

Belhadron pushed open the doors to the healing wards to see six of Legolas' archers all grouped around his bed, laughing over something. He stalked across to them.

"If you tire him out, I'm giving you the novices to train for a week," he threatened them, coming to stand beside Legolas' bed as well. He glanced down at him. "Do you want me to send them away?"

"I'm quite capable of doing that myself," Legolas replied with a grin. He was propped up in bed by a mound of pillows, a blanket draped over him. Two weeks in the healing wards had returned some of the colour to his cheeks, and Belhadron could tell he was beginning to get bored. "They were just telling me about the new recruits for our company. Apparently there are some qualities sorely lacking."

Belhadron huffed a laugh. "That's an understatement," he said. "I just came from watching them train."

Legolas paused, and then nodded. "Good," he said. "I'd like to see what they have to offer." He flipped back the covers and slowly sat up, swinging his legs over the side with a wince.

"What do you think you're doing?" Belhadron snapped, curling his hands into fists in an effort to stop himself from pushing Legolas back onto the bed. "You still have stitches in your side!"

Legolas completely ignored him, turning to his archers. "Can one of you check I'm allowed to do this with the healers?" he asked. The archers grinned as one, and one of them turned and hurried away. Belhadron fixed Legolas with a glare.

"Help me up?" Legolas asked, stretching out a hand to Belhadron. Belhadron's glare just deepened, and Legolas sighed.

"I promise I'll come back inside as soon as I feel tired," he said, rolling his eyes. "And you can hover around me as much as you like. But I'm sick of staring at these walls all day. You know I don't like to be held inside for this long."

Belhadron sighed, and relented. "If the healers say it's allowed, then I suppose there's no harm," he muttered. Just then the archer came back with a healer in tow, who grudgingly gave Legolas permission to go outside. Legolas grinned, and Belhadron rolled his eyes, pulling off his cloak and thick leather jacket and handing them over to Legolas.

"Ready?" he asked once Legolas had put them on, holding out a hand. Legolas nodded and grasped his wrist, and Belhadron pulled him up to his feet. Legolas wavered slightly, but one of his archers came to support him from the other side, and he steadied.

They made their way outside slowly, Belhadron setting Legolas down on a bench as soon as they reached the training fields. "How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting down next to him.

"A little tired," Legolas admitted, catching his breath. But the breeze was catching his hair, and he could feel the thrum of the woods around him.

"You look better already, Legolas," said one of his archers, taking a seat on the grass and pulling out one of his knives to clean it. "What do you think of the potential recruits?"

Legolas looked out across the training field. They were practising sword technique at the moment, moving back and forth across the grass as they sparred. One of the instructors was pacing amongst them, arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face.

"There's potential," said Legolas, studying them.

Belhadron snorted. "Somewhere very deep within them," he muttered. The archers laughed, where they were sprawled on the grass around the bench. "Any of you have your eyes on someone for our company?"

"That small elf with the black hair," one commented. "She's sparring with that awful broadsword we still have for some reason."

"I like her," another said, pulling off her quiver and lying back on the grass, shutting her eyes. "She's feisty."

"Because we really need someone else like you in our company," Belhadron said with a smirk. "Is she actually skilled enough?"

"She looks decent with that sword," Legolas commented, wincing as he shifted on the bench. "And that's saying something, with that broadsword. I hate that sword."

"We all do," one archer said with a smirk. "I'm surprised it hasn't gone mysteriously missing yet."

"It's only because we enjoy inflicting the torment of it on others," another commented with a laugh. It was true, in some ways; anyone who had passed through the training they had seemed to enjoy watching others go through the same. It was a matter of pride for many of them, proof that what they had managed to get through was really as awful as they remembered.

Belhadron watched the elves for a few moments. "I might talk to the instructor," he murmured to Legolas. "See if she can't get them doing some work with bows so you can see what they're made of. If the request comes from you then she can't really deny it."

Legolas nodded. "Get them running moving drills," he added. He paused for a moment. "Phrase it more nicely than that, of course." Belhadron grinned, and then stalked off across the field towards them.

"I want a second in command," one of the archers groaned as he watched him leave. "Can I have Belhadron?"

"I think the realm would burn if Belhadron wasn't your second," said another, amused. "No offence Legolas, of course, but he's rather indispensable. Especially over the past few weeks."

Legolas laughed. "Believe me, I know."

Belhadron jogged back over to Legolas and the archers, and they watched as the elves in front of them ran through drills with their bow. Legolas eventually ended up leaning against Belhadron to take some of the pressure off his side. Belhadron slung an arm around Legolas' shoulders, taking comfort in the fact that his friend was still here, alive and whole and breathing.

Thranduil could see it all from where he stood on the balcony high above them. He'd long worked out all the best places to watch what was happening around the stronghold without being seen by anyone else, especially the closest training fields. He watched as one of the archers turned over and said something up to Legolas, a lazy grin on her face as her knife flipped over and over in her hand. Legolas laughed, only a slight wince on his face as he did so, and said something back that made Belhadron shake his head in despair.

It was moments like this, thought Thranduil as he watched his son smile, that made the past few weeks worth it all.

 _finis_


End file.
